


here at the end

by Chocchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9656879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocchi/pseuds/Chocchi
Summary: Stranded after a mission gone wrong, Genji tries to get himself and an injured McCree to safety.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Szolkir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szolkir/gifts).



> written for szolkir for the mcgenji valentine event!! the prompts were "mccree meeting genji's dragon," "mccree and genji horseback riding," and "here at the end of all things (lotr inspired)." i hope you're not too disappointed by the lack of horseback riding, i thought i had a way to include it but it didn't quite work out.  
> big thanks to [nami](http://namibulist.tumblr.com/) for giving this a quick beta!

The mission is absolutely, unquestionably FUBAR.

Genji shivers, body flashing hot and cold with every other heartbeat. One of the enemy’s bullets--and God, what Genji wouldn’t give just to know _who_ they’re fighting--anyway, it hit something on Genji’s torso, wedged in between the plates of armor, and Genji’s thermal regulation has gone all to shit. He feels like he has a fever, and the wobbly limp of his broken robotic leg isn’t helping.

The team leader gave the retreat order ten minutes ago. Genji was going to listen for once. He was.

But there was radio silence from Jesse, and--

There’s a wet cough from somewhere in the alley to Genji’s left. Genji freezes. This is the fifth time, and every time before it’s been another nameless, dying grunt dressed in black, but he has to look again. He has to.

And it’s a damn good thing he does, because--

Genji rounds the corner of the dumpster and his heart leaps when he sees the top of a cowboy hat. It skips the next beat when he sees knuckles clenched in a bloody stain on Jesse’s side.

“McCree,” he hisses, under his breath, frantically kneeling in front of his--friend? This isn’t the time for that dilemma, it’s the time for patting his hands over Jesse’s and checking for a pulse. Genji could sob with relief when an irregular but strong beat thumps under his fingertips. He shoves his visor up and presses his forehead against Jesse’s, peering at closed eyelids. “McCree, wake up.”

Jesse’s head lolls on his neck.

“Sweetheart,” Genji says, trying for levity. Jesse’s easy endearments are clumsy on his once-silver tongue. He gives Jesse a little shake. “Darling. You don’t have to scare me to get my attention, you know--”

McCree groans.

Genji whispers a fervent, thankful prayer and presses in as close as he can on Jesse’s less-injured side. “Come on, Jesse. Talk to me.”

“Must be dreamin’ or dyin’,” Jesse mumbles, words garbled around a mouthful of blood. Genji could sob, he’s so relieved. “‘Cause you’ve gotta be an angel.”

“You’re a fool,” Genji whispers. He slips a hand under Jesse’s hat to stroke at his hair, cradling him against Genji’s own body. “You’re awake, Jesse, you’re with me. You’re alive and we’re going to get out of here.”

“Out of…aww, hell,” Jesse sighs. He lets his head roll forward to rest against Genji’s shoulder, his hat almost pushed off to the ground by the action. Genji lets it stay uncomfortably squished between them. “Honey...you shoulda run when you had the chance.”

“Like hell,” Genji says, gripping Jesse to him more closely. There’s still screams and the constant rattle of gunfire outside their little alley, but no sounds of footsteps yet, at least.

“S’too many of ‘em,” Jesse mutters. “An’ I’m guessin’ the rest of the team pulled out while I was out of it, huh?”

“You hush,” Genji says. “As though Reyes would let this be the end of the line for you. Someone will come back to find us.”

“Shimada, Gabe ain’t even on the same continent right now,” Jesse says, and Genji flinches at the truth of it. “We’re alone in a goddamn mess of a disaster an’ you know it.”

“Jesse…”

“Wish you’d saved yourself instead of tryin’ to come back for me,” Jesse says, lips curling up at the corners and eyes crinkling, bloody smears and all. “But ‘m glad that you’re here with me, at the end of all things.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Genji says. “I’m going to tell Reyes that you would willingly let your last words to me be a Lord of the Rings quote, and you’re going to live to regret it, do you understand me?”

“‘S a good quote,” Jesse protests, “‘N appr...approp...fittin’.”

“Get up,” Genji says. He abruptly stands, and _almost_ manages to drag Jesse with him. McCree lets out a startled noise and leans heavily into him halfway up, dropping back down to his knees when Genji can’t hold his weight. “McCree, _hurry_.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to hurry for. I can’t move fast enough to outrun a sittin’ brick right now, I’d only slow you down. If you think you still got a shot, honeybee, you leave me and _go_.”

“I’m going to kick your _ass_ ,” Genji says, severely, “When we get back to Zurich. _Get up_.”

The mission is a lost cause, and their team is gone, but-- but there’s still a chance. If they abandon everything and just bolt, if the universe smiles, just this once, upon Genji Shimada, then maybe they can make it out of this.

Genji hauls Jesse to his feet with him and pulls him out of the alley on stumbling feet, most of his weight still on Genji despite his best attempts. Jesse protests the whole way, mumbling the words through bloody lips even as he does his best to stay upright. He either wants to live after all or he’s doing his best not to hold Genji back; either is fine with Genji. Genji, for his part, is trying to check around corners with half his mind and to remember where they can steal a ride out with the other half. He’s, you know, distracted.

That’s his excuse for screaming bloody murder when he pulls them across a road and suddenly there’s a gun point-blank between his eyes.

It’s not even a proper summons, but Genji can feel the surge of adrenalin, the wild electricity in his blood as his dragon answers his call. He barely feels the scrape of his sword as he draws it out of the sheath. It’s as though his arm moves on its own. Their would-be attacker is staggering from the shock of the dragon’s roar when Genji spatters them with their own gore, sword clean through their guts. They fall to the ground with a wet _thud_.

“That was a fucking dragon,” Jesse says. Blood is still dripping from the corner of his mouth.

“How do you say it?” Genji snaps, frantically checking him for new injuries. “ _No shit_.”

“Genji,” Jesse says. “ _A fucking dragon_.”

“It was my dragon,” Genji says. Letting it come out was a mistake--he feels even shakier now, hollow in the wake of the rapidly dissipating energy surge. “Jesse, come on, _please_. If we make it out I’ll tell you _anything_ you ask. But we have to move.”

“A dragon,” Jesse mutters, but he stumbles forward without protest when Genji tugs at his elbow.

 

Three hours later, Genji squirrels Jesse away in a private compartment on a train. Genji’s not even sure where the train is going; he just hopes there’s a phone wherever they end up, so he can call Commander Reyes to organize a retrieval. Jesse is still woozy, but the damage isn’t nearly as bad as Genji was afraid of. Just a mean concussion and a nasty graze wound on his side. He was only bleeding from the mouth earlier because he’d bitten the inside of his cheek. No internal injuries.

“Quit fussin’,” Jesse grumbles, shifting halfheartedly away from Genji’s wandering fingers. Genji bites down on a sharp retort and smooths his hand over the bandaging on Jesse’s side instead. Jesse jumps a little, ticklish. “If anyone oughta be fussin’ at this point it’s me--you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“I’m not losing any important bodily fluids,” Genji mutters. He tugs questioningly at the hem of Jesse’s shirt. Jesse sighs long-sufferingly and shoves his shirt up so Genji can check his own bandaging job for the seventh time.

“Neither ‘m I, anymore,” Jesse says. “As you can see. _Again_. You patched me up good, honey. Now would you sit still and let me give _you_ a look?”

“I already got the bullet out,” Genji says. “Whatever it hit, we can’t do anything about it until I see Dr.Ziegler.”

“Quitter talk,” Jesse says, but instead of inspecting Genji’s body, he just grabs Genji by the hips and hauls him bodily into his own lap, back to chest. “Can’t say you’ve tried everything until you’ve tried remedial hugs.”

“Alternative medicine, Agent McCree?” Genji quips, glad his visor hides his rapidly reddening face.

“What can I say,” Jesse murmurs. He wraps his arms more solidly around Genji’s torso, chin hooked over his shoulder. “I got a bag of mixed tricks.”

For any other ailment, it would merely be weak comfort--but Genji’s fried thermoregulators have been on the cold side for thirty minutes now, and Jesse’s body is a solid beacon of warmth. Genji presses himself back against it, finally giving into the little shudders that wrack his frame. It’s alright. His sword and Jesse’s revolver are both in reach, and even concussed, Jesse is a quicker draw than anyone who might come bursting through the door.

“Wish I had my serape on me,” Jesse mumbles, more to himself than Genji. “Could use it as a blanket.”

“If you’d had your serape on you, we’d have had to trash it on account of blood and bullet holes,” Genji says.

“Now that’s some fuckin’ blasphemy. You wash that shit out and stitch it back together, rich boy, you don’t throw out a perfectly good piece of clothing on account of a few rips and stains.”

Genji stops himself from wondering what filth has accumulated on Jesse’s serape over the years. Best not to think about it, really.

“I believe I promised you answers, earlier,” he says, instead, resting his head back on Jesse’s shoulder.

“Hm? Oh, huh. Guess you did.”

“Well? Ask away.”

Jesse snorts. “Honeybee, I got plenty of questions, but frankly I think I’m still too burnt out to handle the answers at this precise moment.”

Genji makes a noise of disbelief. “You must have _something_.”

“You didn’t give me a time limit,” Jesse shoots back. “Might as well wait ‘til I’ve had a solid night of shuteye before I try to tackle any dragons.”

Genji scoffs at him. Jesse huffs, half a tired laugh.

“Tell you what, sweet thing. You said you would tell me _anything_ I asked, yeah? So--what’s this? What’re we doin’ here?”

“Remedial hugging?” Genji offers, weakly. Jesse lets out another little laugh.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” Genji says. He wriggles restlessly until Jesse loosens his stranglehold around Genji’s waist, and Genji can twist around in his lap. He reaches up and takes his visor off, tossing it on the table of the compartment so he can press his forehead to Jesse’s again. “I--the truth?”

“Preferably,” Jesse says, with a lopsided smile.

“I don’t know,” Genji says. His fingers twist in a lock of Jesse’s dark hair. “But--I’d like to keep doing it.”

Jesse makes a soft noise that Genji can’t decipher. “Right. Okay.”

“Jesse?” Genji presses himself closer, lips ghosting over Jesse’s stubbly jaw. “Was that--a bad answer?”

“Naw, honey,” Jesse huffs. “An’ even so I’d rather a bad truth than a lie. S’okay, though.”

“You’re sure?” Genji murmurs, curling ever closer to Jesse’s body. Jesse curls around him in turn, the both of them huddled in the corner of their private train compartment, a whole space just for them gone to waste.

“I’m sure,” Jesse says. His eyelids flutter closed. “S’long as you wanna keep workin’ on it, I can work with that.”

“I--” _love you_ , Genji doesn’t say. It feels unfair to say and unfair not to say at the same time, like he’s somehow lying either way. _I want you_ used to be safer, for Genji, but that’s not the same as the way Jesse burns him up inside. “I do. Want to keep working on it.”

“Then it’s all good, darling,” Jesse says. Genji lets his own eyelids slide closed and wills himself to believe it when Jesse repeats, “It’s all good. We’re gonna be just fine.”

 

(Years later, Jesse will admit that he’d woken in the middle of their nap to Genji’s dragon coiled around them with its maw full of sharp teeth shoved into the vulnerable stretch of Jesse’s neck, snoring gently. Jesse had decided that he was having a painkiller-induced hallucination and promptly passed back out.

Sometimes he still feels like he’s in a fever dream when he walks into the kitchen and Genji is trying to fend his dragon out of a pot of soup or away from a nest of Jesse’s serapes. But a lot of parts of being in love with Genji Shimada, he thinks wryly, are a little surreal. And really, is it more unbelievable that Jesse has to rescue his boots from a dragon that acts like a large, surly housecat, or that after all these years and explosions and reunions, he still gets to wake up to Genji’s face on the other side of the pillow every morning?)


End file.
